Two Cathedrals
by Invisionary
Summary: Mal's always had faith, as long as he can remember.


Title: Two Cathedrals  
Fandom: _Firefly_  
Characters/Pairing: Mal, gen  
Setting: Pre-series  
Warnings: There is some violence.  
Word count: 1,614  
Summary: Mal's always had faith, as long as he can remember.  
Disclaimer: All characters from Firefly belong to Mutant Enemy productions, which I am not in any way affiliated with.  
Author's Note: Written for the Firefly-West Wing challenge on LiveJournal. The challenge was to take a West Wing episode title and write a Firefly fic based on it.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

---

Mal was just a boy when his mother took him to the cathedral in Point Hope on Shadow.

There was a little church they went to for a while before that, but Mal can hardly recall anything about it. But that cathedral sticks in his memory like few other things.

What he remembers most is the first time they visited it. His mother'd had some business in town, and that day, she'd decided to take him in with her instead of leaving him on the ranch with the hands. It didn't take her long to finish up with her buyers, and since the cathedral had just opened and they'd never been there before, she'd thought it'd be worth heading over to see it.

When they got there, Mal could hardly believe his eyes. He'd seen it before on occasion, in various stages of construction, but none of those other times compared to what it was like when it was finished. He stopped to stare up at the building towering over him, and his mother had to take his hand and urge him up the stairs, chuckling softly at his reaction to the place.

After they went inside, Mal was even more entranced. He'd never seen anyplace like this before. His mother started talking with one of the priests by the door, and he slipped away, wandering among the pews and staring up at the high, vaulted ceiling. He'd later learn that there were cathedrals out there on other worlds a lot grander than this one, but at the time, he was totally swept up in the beauty and the power and the grandeur of the place.

He spent the next few minutes looking around, his eyes taking in every detail her could find. Until he abruptly realized that he'd lost sight of his mother, and his steps grew more panicked as he searched for her as quickly as he could.

But it wasn't long before she found him, over by one of the side walls lined with stained-glass windows. Bright light filtered in from outside, projecting shards of brilliant color onto the floor, and her face was framed by the contrasting hues as she crouched down in front of him. Seeing the anxious look on his face, she rested her hands on his shoulders and gave him a reassuring smile as she pulled him into her arms.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "God's watchin' over you."

And at that moment, under the windows crafted with beautiful scenes of kindness and compassion, in his mother's loving embrace, Mal knew it was true.

---

Years later, in the middle of the war and far away from home, on the shattered and rubble-strewn streets of Sikyon on Hera, Mal stumbles into a burned-out building through a hole in one wall. It's the middle of the night, but the moons give off enough light to see by, and he takes a quick look around. He doesn't see any movement, and though there are occasional sounds of gunfire out on the streets, none of it's close by.

He gives himself a moment to relax - a man has to know his limits, after all, and he's fair sure he pushed past his a good while back - but only a moment. He's exhausted, but he knows he can't possibly sleep here. This part of the city has changed hands a dozen times in the past several hours, and he has no idea which side it belongs to now. So he checks his rifle - only a few rounds left - and gives himself a few seconds to think over what to do next.

Zoë was probably doing what she could to rally their squad after the ambush that had separated them. He has no idea where they are now, but he needed to find them, quick as he could. No telling how many Alliance troops could be here by morning. As much as the idea stings, Mal has to admit that they're probably going to have to pull back.

He decides to take a quick look around, see if he can get a decent view of the streets outside from here. He doesn't fancy the idea of running into an Alliance squad all by his lonesome. So he turns and starts picking his way through the rubble, moving further into the building.

It takes a few minutes for it to dawn on him that this is a cathedral. Or was, more like - Alliance bombs had done a hell of a job on this place. He was standing in the nave now, or what was left of it, and a ways away from where he was, he could make out a dais, and an altar, and a toppled cross near the back wall, charred and blackened like everything else here. He looks around again, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe the place had been empty when it was hit.

But as Mal bends down to look at one of the broken pews, the dark brown stains he sees put the lie to that notion. That was blood, sure enough. There'd been people here, probably huddled together and scared out of their wits, hoping - _praying_ - that they'd be safe in a house of God.

For all the good it'd done them.

Mal's seen atrocities in this war before - more than he cares to count - but this...

He's abruptly jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of a rifle bolt being pulled back directly behind him. His blood runs cold, and he raises his hands and slowly turns around.

He finds himself staring into the face of an Alliance soldier. He has his rifle aimed square at Mal's chest, and the tiny flashlight at the end of it is shining right into his eyes. He gestures toward Mal's rifle with his head, and Mal tosses the weapon onto the floor to one side.

Mal's heard the stories, like everyone else, about Alliance troopers executing Independents in the field. And as he looks this soldier over, sees the hard look in his eyes... He doesn't figure this one has any plans to take him to a prison camp.

The soldier angles the beam of his flashlight down a little, and gives a cruel smirk when he catches sight of the cross hanging around Mal's neck.

"Don't worry," he sneers. "God's watchin' over you."

He raises his gun again, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of another rifle action being pulled echoes through the building. Another man steps into view from behind a pile of rubble, and though Mal doesn't recognize him, he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the brown jacket the newcomer is wearing - same as his own. His rifle is trained on the Alliance soldier, who drops his gun and puts his hands up when he sees he's been caught flat-footed.

Mal's just about to thank his rescuer when all hell breaks loose.

Shouts ring out from the street in front of the cathedral, along with shots and a few explosions, and a second later, a half-dozen Alliance soldiers run in through the shattered doorway. More come in close on their heels, and there's no doubt in Mal's mind that there are too many to fight. He and his rescuer turn and run, heading for the back of the place as quick as they can even as the first Alliance trooper dives to the ground, grabbing for his rifle.

Mal keeps low as gunfire erupts around him. Luckily, the rubble provides a good deal of cover, and makes it up onto the dais, passing the altar and heading for the back of the cathedral. There's another hole in the wall there, and glancing through it, he sees that the street out past it seems to be clear. He finds an interior wall still standing, and ducks behind it, putting it between him and the troopers shooting at him.

A few seconds later, the gunfire dies down. Mal chances a look back around the corner out over the nave again... and stares in horror at what he sees.

The Browncoat who rescued him is limping his way up onto the dais, clutching at one leg as blood soaks through the material of his pants. Mal can see the grimace of pain on his face, and he knows this fellow will never make it to where he's standing. His rescuer obviously knows it too, because he comes to a stop right in front of the altar and turns to face his pursuers.

Mal's rifle is still on the ground hundreds of feet away, so all he can do is look on helplessly as the Alliance troopers spread out in front of the dais. Everything happens in slow motion, and the next few seconds feel like an eternity.

He sees that first Alliance soldier, the one who caught him, raise his rifle.

Hears his rescuer's cry for mercy ring out.

There's a flash from the muzzle of the soldier's rifle, a sharp crack fills the air, his rescuer's head jerks back, and the altar is covered in blood.

Mal doesn't even have time to take a breath before the Alliance troopers run forward again. He turns and ducks out through the collapsed back wall, heading for a nearby alley, making his way across the scorched and broken streets as fast as he's able.

As he leaves the cathedral behind him, Mal reaches for the cross around his neck and whispers a prayer for the soldier who saved his life, but it's never felt more like an empty gesture.

END


End file.
